covers her daughter’s hand with her own. “You never could do anything by halves.”
When Phee arrives on Braden’s doorstep on Wednesday afternoon at 3:29 and rings the bell, she gives herself a serious pep talk. She’ll be friendly but keep good boundaries. She’s not taking him on a date. The way her blood surges at the smallest thought of him, the way her heart beats faster and her breath seems to live in her throat at the sound of his voice, all of this is irrelevant. She’s here as a sponsor and a . . . coach. That’s it. A person with a job to do. Keep him sober. Get him playing the cello.
She has a rudimentary plan forming in her head, only she needs help to make it happen.
“Look what you’ve gotten me into,” she mutters to her grandfather as she punches the bell again. Music swirls between her ears, this time nothing classical, a mournful lament.
The door swings open, and her heart does a series of rolling somersaults, despite all of her best intentions.
“No Celestine?” Braden asks, looking behind her.
“He’s not exactly well behaved at the pet store. I half expected that you wouldn’t be here,” she adds, getting back in the car.
“I almost wasn’t.” He busies himself buckling his seat belt, avoiding her gaze. “I confess that I actually fled the premises, but then I came back.”
“Why?”
“Which thing?”
“Both. Why leave. Why come back?”
“Afraid to face the group. Afraid I’ll drink if I don’t go. Afraid of you, frankly. Did you tell them about my relapse?”
“Hey, my interference and enabling goes only so far. Tell or don’t tell, that’s your decision to make.”
“But you called a special meeting.”
“I told them I was thinking about drinking. They were all having fits because I missed on Monday. I never miss.”
“Are you? Thinking about drinking?”
“Crossed my mind.”
It’s not a lie. The aroma of the Scotch she poured on her grandfather’s grave is still making her mouth water. But that’s not why she’s called this meeting, which is all about Braden. As much as she’s struggling with her boundaries, though, she knows it won’t do him any good to talk about his relapses unless he brings it up himself.
They drive the rest of the way in an uneasy silence, Phee alternating between her own thoughts and trying to read his. When she parks the car, he makes no move to get out.
“You coming?”
“I tried to play last night. Just so you know.”
“Oh, Braden.”
“It was absolutely horrifying. Spent the rest of the night walking around and trying not to think. Or drink.”
“Did you pop into a bar? Buy a bottle?”
“I did not, oddly enough.”
“Come on,” she says. “Come inside. We’re late.”
The whole group cheers when they walk in.
“Hey, glad you made it,” Oscar says. “We were starting to worry. Phee is never late.”
“And she never misses meetings.” Katie glares at Braden, as if sensing that he is responsible for Phee’s absence.
“I’m only here because she dragged me,” Braden says, pulling up a chair.
“You wouldn’t be here if you really didn’t want to come,” Jean says. She’s wearing a long sweater, her hands completely disappeared inside the sleeves, but she holds eye contact with Braden for a long moment, reading him. Jean always can see things that everybody else misses.
“Let’s talk adventures. Braden, as our newest member, you are on the hot seat.” Len uncaps his marker, ready to write down adventure points.
“I didn’t take anybody on an adventure. I thought about it, for about half a second. The checker at the grocery store looked like she needed one. Are there points for good intentions?”
“Yep. A zero,” Len says good-naturedly.
“Technically, we took each other on an adventure,” Phee interjects, trying to lighten his mood, ease his way. “Just a picnic in the rain. So split it up, half for each of us.”
Braden meets her eyes across the table. “I won’t let you do it, Phee.”
“It’s true! Technically.”
“It’s not true,” he says, carefully and deliberately. “I was on the edge of drinking. Phee advised that I lock myself out of the house, which I did. And then she took me to the park.”
“Sounds like an adventure to me,” Dennis says. “Letting Phee whisk you off is bound to be unpredictable. Was Celestine involved?”
Braden takes a breath. “He was. And despite an enormous amount of dog slobber and getting drenched in the rain, I returned home and drank half a bottle.”
Phee realizes she’s been holding her breath. He’s fessed up to his relapse, that’s the important